each
of the edges, through which they were driven, so it was hard work; but
when Tommy really tried and could not get the boards off, his father
helped him, and soon the strips were off and the boards quickly
followed.

"Now what shall we do?" asked his father.

"Why, we must make the sled."

"Yes--but how?"

"Why, we must have runners and then the top to sit on. That's all."

"Very well. Go ahead," said his father. So Tommy picked up two boards
and looked at them. But they were square at the ends.

"We must make the runners," he said sadly.

"That's so," said his father.

"Will you saw them for me?" asked Tommy.

"Yes, if you will show me where to saw." Tommy pondered.

"Wait," he said, and he ran off, and in a moment came back with a
picture of a sled in a magazine. "Now make it this way," he said,
showing his father how he should saw the edges.

He was surprised to see how well his father could do this, and his
admiration for him increased as he found that he could handle the
tools quite as well as Peake, the farmer; and soon the sled began to
look like a real sled with runners, sawed true, and with cross-pieces
for the feet to rest on, and even with a strip of iron, taken from the
edges of the boxes, carefully nailed on the bottom of the runners.

Suddenly Tommy cried, "Father, why not give Johnny this sled?"

"The very thing!" exclaimed his father with a smile. And Tommy felt
quite proud of having suggested it.

"I wish it had a place to hitch on the goats," said Tommy, thoughtfully.

"Let's make one," said his father; and in a few minutes two holes were
bored in the front of the runners.

It was now about dusk, and Tommy said he would like to take the sled
down to Johnny's house and leave it at his door where he could find it
when he came home from work, and, maybe, he might think Santa Claus
had brought it. So he and his father went together, Tommy dragging the
sled and, while his father waited at the gate, Tommy took the sled and
put it in the yard at the little side-door of Johnny's home. As they
were going along, he said, pointing to a small shed-like out-building
at the end of the little yard, "That's the cow-house. He keeps his
goats there, too. Don't you wish Santa Claus would bring his mother a
cow? I don't see how he could get down that small chimney!" he said,
gazing at the little flue which came out of the roof. "I wonder if he
does?"

"I wonder if he does?" said his father to him